Hello everyone!
When Barb asked if I’d like to participate in Live Your Life Buy the
Book’s Advent Calendar Event I immediately said yes. Christmas is my favorite
time of the year and I always want to celebrate. I didn’t write a Christmas
story though, so I wasn’t quite sure what to present to you all. At the end I
decided on a little snippet from the third installment in my “By Degrees”
series. What you’re about to read takes place in the timeline of “Six Degrees
of Agony” a few days before Christmas. Hope you enjoy it, and Happy Holidays!
December, 2009
Houston, Texas
“I think me and the twins went overboard decoratin’
the tree.”
Sam glanced at the gigantic Christmas tree in the
corner of Mac’s family room. He made an honest effort to assess the amount of
angels, stars and Santa Clauses before his attention was diverted by the sight
of his boyfriend’s naked back. “Looks great to me,” he declared, not sure if he
was referring to the Christmas tree or the play of muscles in motion as Mac
repositioned the satin red bow topper.
“It has too many ornaments.”
Sam grabbed a can of whipped cream from the fridge
and two saucers from the cupboard. After three months of hanging out at Mac’s
place whenever possible he knew where Mac kept his stuff and never had trouble
finding anything. He felt as much at home in Mac’s house in Houston as he did
in the New York apartment and his own house, and he liked it.
“So?”
“So it looks like… I don’t know... It’s probably too
much.”
Sam rested his elbows on the granite countertop and
watched Mac take out a few ornaments.
“You’re right. There are too many ornaments. But the
twins were over the moon with excitement, and you had a blast fondling and hanging
those balls,” Sam quipped. “Who gives a shit if the thing would never win a Best
Christmas Tree contest?”
Mac shot him a playful glare over his shoulder. “Why
didn’t you say anythin’?”
Because Mac in dad mode was a thing of beauty, and
Sam had been too busy enjoying his first full night with Mac, Austin, and Emma
Rose to notice. Besides, the sense of rightness and belonging was so overwhelming
that for a minute there—or an hour—Sam had been afraid of turning into a maudlin
idiot if he dared open his mouth to say something ,even if he had noticed the
ornament vomit.
“I thought excess was the order of the day,” he told
Mac in a teasing tone, looking pointedly at the cookie sheets on the other side
of the counter. “How many of those we baked and decorated again?”
Mac grinned. “You ate an entire batch by yourself.”
“That’s so not the point.” Sam opened a bag or
marshmallows and rolled his shoulders. “My back still hurts from spending the afternoon
helping you wrap a thousand presents. I could use a body rub.”
“I didn’t buy that many things and you don’t have
to pretend you aren’t feelin’ emotional. It is
a big day.”
“Okay, so maybe it was five hundred boxes that we
wrapped.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows and ignored Mac’s remark. He wasn’t
surprised by it, though. He had never been able to hide his feelings from Mac. “Can
I still get a body rub?”
And a body rub was all it would be, regardless of
how badly Sam wanted to bury himself in Mac’s tightness and drive his crazy
with pleasure for the rest of the night. Austin and Emma Rose were sleeping
upstairs and there was no way in hell Sam would engage in any kind of sexual
activity while he, Mac, and the kids were under the same roof.
Not when Mac was taking a huge risk by having a
family night with his kids and boyfriend when he was still married to his kids’
mom.
Not when Amy could—and would—use anything at her
disposal to drag things in Court.
Mac chuckled, snapping Sam out of his thoughts, but
he was frowning when he turned
Sam’s voice was gentle when he said, “I counted
fifteen presents per kid before giving up.” There was no denying Mac knew no
limits when it came to giving stuff to his kids.
“That’s not too much,” Mac said with a shrug.
“That’s entirely too much,” Sam disagreed, and even
though he didn’t want to open that particular can of worms, he found himself
asking, “Are you trying to overcompensate for something?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I think you’re right.” Mac took one of the
ornaments and put it back on the tree. “We had a great time decoratin’ it, and
that’s the only thing that counts.”
Sam sighed at Mac’s blatant attempt to change the
subject.
Mac walked over to the kitchen, pecked Sam on the
lips, put several cookies on a plate, and kissed him again, this time on the
back of his neck. “Is that cocoa about ready?”
Sam sighed again, but decided to let the subject go
for the time being.
Not that he had an option.
“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” Mac asked
the second Sam entered the family room carrying two mugs of homemade cocoa topped
with marshmallows and whipped cream.
He handed Mac one of the mugs and lowered himself
slowly onto the extremely comfortable sofa before answering the question.
“The yearly four-hour roundtrip from Brooklyn to a
farm tree in Monticello to cut our own Christmas tree,” he said, eyes fixed on
the multi-colored twinkling lights of Mac’s tree.
No.
Their tree.
Mac had told him it was their tree; his, Sam’s, and the kids’.
“Family tradition?” Mac sat next to him and hooked
one leg over Sam’s before taking a sip from his mug.
“I remember Dad would say to me and my sister, “It’s
time to go get our Christmas tree,” year after year on the same date. December
1st.” He smiled and looked at Mac. “You know he was a cop and worked
pretty irregular hours, so we hardly ever got to go on December 1st,
but Sandy and I knew we wouldn’t have a long wait. Dad always cleared the first
Saturday after December 1st to drive us to Monticello, come hell or
high water, or even a blizzard, and we’d help choose and cut the biggest tree
in the farm.”
“Sounds like lots of fun,” Mac said with a sweet
smile.
“It was.” Sam returned the smile and rested his
head on Mac’s shoulder. “They had a petting zoo and even sleighs for rides when
the weather cooperated, then we’d drive back home and stay up until the tree
was fully decorated.” He drank some of his hot cocoa before setting the mug on
the coffee table. “By the end Dad couldn’t help much,” Sam added in a somber
tone. “He was only in his sixties when he passed, but his arthritis had gotten
so bad he couldn’t lift any weight in the warmest of days, let alone in the
freezing cold, but we still went to Monticello every year to get our tree.” He
sniffled and traced Mac’s thigh with his fingertips. “He passed away in May of
2004. I haven’t been back to the farm since December of 2003.”
“That’s a beautiful memory...” Mac sat his mug on
the coffee table, took Sam’s hand in his, and kissed it tenderly. “My family
never did anything so special... Hell, we never did anything at all. Christmas
was all about entertaining influential acquaintances and talking them into
donating money to Dad’s political campaigns. I was often left to the care of
the maids.”
“I’m sorry, kitten.” Sam ran his fingers through
Mac’s hair and pressed their foreheads together. “That must’ve sucked.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Mac caressed Sam’s T-shirt
covered chest as he added, “Next year I’d like you to drive us to that farm in
Monticello to get our tree. It’s a beautiful tradition, and I want to revive it
as soon as we can. We’ll ask Margaret if she’d like to come with us... and
maybe Sandy, too.” He kissed Sam, then leaned back and looked him in the eye. “Sounds
good?”
“Sounds wonderful,” Sam said with a huge smile.
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